


Miles Fucks the World

by 3988Akasha, ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Bacon, Anal Sex, Anus Chats, Bondage, Crack, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, No Feels, Oral Sex, Terrible Euphemisms, Unapologetic Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-09
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-12-04 18:03:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/713506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3988Akasha/pseuds/3988Akasha, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miles returns to his former glory as General of the Monroe Republic's militia with style. </p>
<p>We put the crack warning in there for a reason. </p>
<p>All crack all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Exhaustive List

**Author's Note:**

> ElDiablito_SF: Dear World: You didn't know you wanted it until it happened. You're welcome. 
> 
> 3988Akasha: I don't even know, really. But, enjoy.

“Bass, you promised you’d give me _anything_ I wanted,” Miles said, fingers playing idly with the sharp edges of one of his daggers. “How else am I supposed to re-establish my position as everyone’s Commanding Officer?”

“Um...” Bass had to admit, Miles made a lot of sense actually. “Well... I guess I was kind of hoping it would be sufficient for you to just, you know, fuck _me_ , since _I’m_ the President. Why do you have to fuck _everyone_?”

“I don’t have to fuck like the _entire_ militia, Jesus, Bass, even _my_ cock will fall off from that much sex. But I think a good, wide sampling should suffice.”

“How wide a sampling do you need?” 

Miles looked pensive for a while, as if he was making precise calculations in his mind.

“Hm... Do you have dossiers on this kind of thing?”

“What kind of thing, Miles?”

“You know, um... Like a rating of how hot everyone is? Maybe their sexual preference? Wouldn’t want to go around fucking the straight boys. That wouldn’t do much to reassert my leadership. Fool can’t even find the gay boys? Can’t follow that moron!”

Bass rubbed his brow. “I suppose I could put someone on it? Maybe have someone ask a few casual questions?”

“Oh, and if you’re already going to be doing that, perhaps they can also provide measurements.”

“What difference does it make how big their dicks are, Miles?”

“Size always matters. I have _standards_ , you know.”

“How am I going to casually ask these questions? It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue.”

Miles shrugged. “Make Jeremy do it. He’s always been good with his mouth.” 

***

“OK, Miles, I have the list with the measurements you wanted, you sick bastard.”

“I have always counted on your resourcefulness, Baker,” Miles nodded in approval. “Oh and I see you’ve put yourself at the top of the list: how thoughtful.”

“Well, I’d hate for you to have to question my loyalty, Miles. I mean... General Matheson, Sir.”

Miles felt his cock twitch. It was obviously giving approbation to his plans.

“Actually,” Miles began, trying not to salivate too obviously, “I was sort of planning on saving the best for last. Or, you know, the second best for penultimate.”

“That’s sort of a dickish thing to say, but no hard feelings,” Jeremy shrugged and added, “Besides the ones in my pants, of course.”

“Of course.” Miles cleared his throat. “Now, let’s see this list.” He slowly read out the names to himself, while smirking into his whiskey. “Really? Both of the Nevilles are on this list.”

“Yes, Sir, they’re hung like stallions, Sir.”

“I didn’t realize Tom had any inkling for cock.”

“I have it on pretty good authority, Sir, he’s specifically choking for _your_ cock.” Jeremy nodded for emphasis. “And his son is just so pretty, so there’s _that_.”

Miles had seen incontrovertible proofs of Jason’s prettiness with his own eyes. It was one of the things that most annoyed him about the kid. Nevertheless, Jeremy’s logic was sound.

“This is sort of wishful thinking, Jeremy,” Miles pointed to something on the list. “You’ve listed _all_ the Winchesters.”

“Yes, Sir, all five of them.”

“That’s impossible!”

“It’s just genetics.” Jeremy shrugged again. “Trust me, I’ve boned at least three of them myself.”

“And really? Smith _and_ Wesson?”

Jeremy nodded and made a suggestive gesture involving his hand and mouth.

“This militia is a lot more gay than I realized. Private Colt too?”

“Oh, he’s the gayest,” Jeremy reassured.

“Jeremy, normally I believe you’re fully up to the task,” Miles began with a pointed leer. “But, Danny Matheson? As in my nephew?”

Jeremy returned his heated gaze and Miles adjusted his hard dick, wondering why he’d decided to save Jeremy for next-to-last. He might have to rethink his ordering. Perhaps he should indulge in a Bass/Jeremy/EVERYONE/Jeremy/Bass sandwich, like a Club sandwich but the bacon was his dick. 

“You asked for a wide sampling, Miles, Sir. Your nephew has been less receptive to our initiations. Perhaps a familial hand on his beef bayonet will help him come around to our side. Plus,” Jeremy added with a wink, “you did ask for the pretty ones. Mathesons are awfully pretty.”

“Beef bayonet?” Miles parroted.

Jeremy sauntered up to him and palmed Miles’ engorged dick. “Like I said, he’s a Matheson.”

Miles licked his lips. “Bring him in before I have to launch my own assault on a _friendly_ weapon.”

With one last squeeze to Miles’ impressive Johnson, Jeremy left the room.


	2. Danny

Miles sat behind the massive wooden desk, his hands steepled in front of him. He knew it wouldn’t take Jeremy long to go and find young Danny and just the thought of it had Miles’ mouth salivating like a St. Bernard. Bored, Miles pushed away from the desk and walked over to the sideboard to pour himself a drink and after a thought, poured a second one for Danny, hoping the libation would loosen his libido. 

He pulled his shirt over his head, liking the feel of his nipples hardening into little nubs of steel in the chilly air. His shirt floated to the ground as he walked over to the fireplace, hips shaking as though there was someone around to see, but Miles figured practice was never uncalled for and threw another log on the fire with a flick of his wrist. He popped the button on his slacks and shimmied out of them, feeling the coarse material of the uniform material against his legs. He made a note to discuss a more refined cloth for his uniform slacks with Bass during one of their more intimate moments. Miles groaned as he thought of such moments with Bass. The man’s blue eyes looking up at Miles from his position on his knees. 

Miles leaned heavily against the fireplace and took his prick in hand, wondering if he’d be able to pop a nut before young Danny arrived. Maybe, just stroke himself to life, give Danny a good gander at his meat. Miles knew he could turn Danny around to their side with the use of his rapidly growing one eyed snake. 

He heard the door open, but continued to tug his wang as though he hadn’t heard anything. The sharp intake clued him into the visitor’s presence and he smirked as he met the wide eyes of his young nephew. There was a becoming blush staining Danny’s cheeks as he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed. 

“It’s okay, Danny. I want you to look. And before you leave, you’ll choke down my aching member. It’s part of the initiation. Your initiation.”

Miles watched the way Danny licked his pink lips, watched the way his eyes followed the movements of his hand. There was something incredible about watching the way Danny’s lips parted as he slowly began to move closer to Miles. 

When he was within arms reach, Miles reached out and pulled Danny against his body, hand cradling the back of his neck. He crushed their lips together, wanting to see Danny’s lips bright red from his teeth and his tongue. He wanted Danny to be panting with need, with want, with desire. He would have Danny flushed and gagging for his dick. 

“You’re my uncle,” Danny managed to say when Miles took a breath.

Miles smiled. “And I’m bringing you into the family business. Matheson men have a long and prestigious history of being top dogs, and I have to ensure you’re keeping your end up.”

Miles brought his hand down, pushed past Danny’s pants and rolled his goolies in his hand before stroking his impressive man meat, pleased these traits were hereditary. Danny’s hips bucked forward, as Miles continued to work his dick, feeling the silky skin glide in his hand. The boy was making soft sounds of pleasure against MIles’ neck and Miles smiled, knowing he’d started training the newest recruit for the Monroe Republic. 

Initiation wasn’t meant to be easy though and Miles pushed Danny down to his knees. He blinked up at Miles, eyes wide with an innocence Miles could get drunk on, and innocence he planned on fucking out of him for good. He was going to turn his delectable nephew into his own personal pocket nymph, the Monroe brand would be his tramp stamp. 

The image made Miles groan and he pushed his Polish sausage against Danny’s pink lips. 

“Open your mouth, use your lips to guard your teeth.”

He watched as Danny’s mouth parted. Miles gripped the base of his shaft, wondering why he hadn’t thought to put a leash on his wild beast, but filed it away to do for the next course. He pushed his dick past Danny’s lips, watched the boy’s eyes widen as he struggled to take MIles’ impressive girth. His lips were spread wide, his eyes beginning to water as Miles pushed his aching member further down Danny’s throat. He placed his hands on Danny’s head and began to thrust his hips, watching his dick slide in and out of Danny’s wet mouth. When he hit Danny’s gag reflex, Miles thought about pulling out, about giving him a break, but he didn’t because the little cock slut continued to suck his dick, spit dripping from the corners of his mouth. 

Jeremy was right. Danny was pretty. Slowly, and more than a bit regretfully, Miles pulled his dick from Danny’s wet, hot mouth.

“Take off your clothes, but slowly. Like you mean it. This is your chance to make me _want_ it. Because I’m going to fuck your virgin ass so hard you’ll march at an angle for a week.”

Danny swallowed, head nodding a bit frantically. Miles was intoxicated by the sight. He watched Danny slowly reach for the buttons on the top of his shirt, watched the way his eyes flicked up to meet Miles’ heated gaze, peeking through his lashes, shyly. Miles nodded encouragingly, reaching down to keep little stiffy entertained as he watched Danny pull the shirt over his head. Each inch of of Danny’s skin made Miles’ grip on his dick increase until he was fairly certain he’d given himself blue balls, but not the good kind. 

“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

Danny shook his head, hair settling in a messy flop across his eyes, the shirt in a forgotten heap on the ground. Miles licked his lips and he saw Danny smirk through his nerves. He’d make a Matheson out of him yet. Danny unbuttoned his pants, slowly pushed them down his hips and Miles bit his lip, forcing himself to not pounce on the poor boy, forget all about his non-Emily Post approved manners and fucked him into every available surface. Like a christening. But with more sex. 

“You’ve thought about it,” Miles purred. “Thought about taking your clothes off for a man, bending over and spreading your cheeks for someone’s heat-seeking love missile.” 

Danny reached for his own dick, but Miles shook his head. “No. Not yet. It’ll be your turn soon enough, boy.”

Danny bit his knuckle, clearly holding something back. Miles smirked. “Don’t worry. You’ll get to touch yourself. In fact, I’m going to insist upon it. Up on the bed, on your knees, ass up.”

Danny stared at him. Miles waved imperiously towards the bed, too damned horny to be patient. He was going to pop Danny’s bright, red cherry and he was going to pop it soon. As he moved closer to the bed, he drank in the sight of Danny’s pale skin and moved his hand up Danny’s calf. It was as silky as it felt. Miles moved his hand up the boy’s thigh until he reached the globe of Danny’s glorious ass. He massaged the ample flesh, feeling the weight of it in his hand. There was only one thing wrong with it...it was too _pure_ and Miles had every intention of facilitating its fall from grace. He brought his other hand down sharply on Danny’s ass, enjoying the way it made his hand tingle. Still, Danny was a bit too quiet for his taste. After all, he wanted to ensure _all_ of Danny’s assets were up to Matheson standards and everyone knew Matheson’s were noisy when they decided to take a tumble in the hay. 

He continued to slap Danny’s ass, watching the way the flesh jiggled like JELL - O. When it was nice and pink, like a perfectly prepared steak, Miles removed his hand. He enjoyed the way Danny panted, his body trembling from the way Miles’ hand had tanned Danny’s hide to just the perfect shade. He walked over to the table and pulled open the top drawer. After casting a critical eye across the sadly diminishing supply, he selected the curvy bottle because Miles intended to make Danny’s inaugural exposure to his heated kosher pickle sizzlin’. 

“You’re going to open yourself up to me, present your ass to me. And, when you feel you’re ready, I’m going to slide my enormous bratwurst up your ass and break you in like the young Stallion you are.”

Miles handed the bottle to Danny and loved the way the boy’s eyes widened at the sight of the lube. He blinked up at Miles, eyes full of a youthful innocence Miles was eager to snuff out and motioned for Danny to begin.

“I don’t know - what do it do with it?”

“Oh my pretty boy, you slick up your fingers and fuck yourself open, nice and wide because you know the kind of heat I’m packing.”

Danny nodded, his cheeks stained that becoming pink again and Miles bit the inside of his mouth to keep his dirty sounds to himself. Danny hadn’t yet earned them, but he would. Danny fumbled with the bottle before finally managing to flip open the cap and pour a generous amount on his fingers. His nose scrunched up and Miles smiled and winked.

“Is that _bacon_ I smell?”

“That’s the smell of the _other_ white meat.”

Danny rolled his eyes, which warmed Miles’ heart because his dick was already hot enough to fry a sausage on at the moment. Still, his nephew was a Matheson and eager to have sex so Danny reached back and slowly pushed his sticky fingers into his virgin hole. It was fitting, Miles thought as he continued to tame his raging beast, to watch a Matheson take claim of his own body. 

“That’s it, boy. Shove those fingers into your virgin little boy hole. Make it all nice and gaping for me.”

Danny nodded and continued to fuck himself on his fingers. Miles flared his nostrils, catching the succulent scent of bacon and young man flesh. He licked his lips as he watched his private show, one he would be sure to make a frequent viewing. Danny started moaning as he spread himself open with his fingers, and Miles smiled knowing he’d just given Danny an amazing gift. Although, he was about to give his nephew the best present an uncle could give - the gift of his leaking cock. It’d been a while since he’d had any sort of premature ejaculate, but the sight of his new blond toy fingering himself open with such enthusiastic gusto was almost too much for him. 

“Are you almost ready, boy? Ready for my man meat to split you in half like a hotdog bun?”

Danny’s face was flushed and his eyes were blown wide, dried spit lingered on the corner of his lips. Miles closed his eyes and moaned as he thought of how good it would look to have his man juices pouring out of Danny’s abused and puckered hole. 

“You’d better be ready,” Miles growled as he stalked closer to the bed. Danny’s eyes were nervous, but that was to be expected. Miles’ dick was impressive and intimidating even to those who had already been indoctrinated. 

“I’ll make it good for you,” Miles whispered as he ran his hand through Danny’s shaggy hair. 

Miles positioned himself behind Danny, stroked his bulbous ass before gallantly raising one leg up onto the bed to better position himself to mount his young blond colt. He pushed his dick in, feeling the pink ring of muscle stretch around his engorged dick. Danny moaned his appreciation for Miles finally giving him the most glorious pounding of his life. Which he did with enthusiasm, knowing there was nothing quite like a piece of Matheson ass. 

He grunted as he felt his hairy gonads tighten, the only warning for pending eruption. Which he did with glorious purpose as he continued to jackhammer his hips into the aching hole in front of him. Once he felt his warm seed fill up the burning channel, Miles pulled his quickly softening prick out, watching his love juices ooze from Danny’s constricting hole. 

“Oh, look at that,” Miles purred as he watched Danny’s ass work the juices from his hole. “You’re still _begging_ for it.”

Miles slapped Danny’s ass, with a smile for a job well done. “Sadly, any further lessons will have to be postponed. I am on a tight schedule and Jeremy has a bet riding on whether or not I can keep to it.”


	3. Jason

After a perfunctory shower, more to get his juices flowing than for any functional reason, Miles returned to his office and cracked the door open to shout, “Next!”

He was very specific about the order he had mandated to Jeremy, so he smiled a knowing smile to his own reflection in the mirror, and adjusted his belt.

The door creaked open and shut softly, as tentative steps sounded in the office.

“Reporting for duty, young Neville?” Miles asked, without turning around. He could see Jason Neville blushing in the mirror behind him. The young man mumbled something unintelligible. Miles could understand someone being in awe of his cock, but this wouldn’t do for soldierly behavior. “Speak up, Private!”

“Yes, General Matheson,” Jason responded on cue.

Miles rounded on him, making a small circle of inspection. He approved of what he saw. So did his meaty kilbasa.

“Hm, young Jason, I see you’ve let your hair grow out.” Miles stood behind the young man and ran his fingers up his neck, letting them tangle in the newly grown curls. “It’s a good look on you. You should always wear it this way.” Miles clenched his fist in Jason’s hair, pulling his head back, exposing the lines of his throat. “What do we say?” Miles growled softly into Jason’s ear.

“Thank you, Sir?”

“That’s right,” Miles whispered, letting his teeth graze the young man’s soft ear lobe. “And you’re welcome.” He latched his teeth onto the exposed flesh of the soldier’s throat, gently, merely to assert his dominance, and then slowly ran his tongue along the pulsating ligaments. “Do you know why you’re here, Private?”

“To pay homage to your cock, Sir,” Jason responded, sending a thrilling shock down to Miles’ massive tool. He wasn’t expecting the younger Neville to be quite so accommodating. This was going to be even more fun than he had anticipated. He growled in approval.

“Damn straight, to pay homage!” he finally said. He finally positioned himself in front of Jason, studying his expression with calm composure. “Yessss,” Miles slowly hissed, running both his hands up the kid’s neck. “You are obviously very well trained in servicing your superiors, aren’t you, Private?” Jason swallowed and nodded. “You have a really purty mouth,” Miles said, leaning in, grazing Jason’s lower lip with his teeth. “I am going to really enjoy myself with it some day, but unfortunately, I’m on a tight,” he paused and pressed his growing boner into Jason’s hip, “schedule, you see.” He leaned in again, this time claiming the young man’s mouth with his lips, his tongue thrusting in with relentless dominance. Jason groaned and relaxed into the kiss, letting Miles ravage his face as if it was a cream-filled pastry.

Having finally tasted his fill of this delectable appetizer, Miles maneuvered the young Neville against the closest wall, pressing him in place with the rigid temple of Adonis that was his body. 

“God, you’re such a pretty little bitch, Jason. Look at you: all flushed and needy for my fat python.”

Jason merely whimpered in response and allowed his head to softly bump up against the wall.

“Yes, Sir,” he finally managed, his hands reaching out towards Miles’ belt. “Please, Sir, let me touch it.”

“Oh yes, you little bitch in heat, I’ll let you do more than touch it. I’m gonna fill you up with my cream so hard, it’s gonna be leaking out your pie-hole for decades.”

Jason’s eyes got so big and dilated with lust that Miles almost fucked him into the wall right then and there. But this would not do: he had to demonstrate control, after all, and mastering himself was paramount to mastering that sweet little cream pie in Jason’s pants.

“Take off your clothes, Private,” Miles took a step back, the better to enjoy the view.

Jason would have put on a better show, had his fingers not been trembling with anticipation of the plowing he was about to have the honor of receiving. Nevertheless, he undid the buttons of his shirt with as much composure as he could muster and then quickly pulled the rest of his clothes off and tossed them away, until he was standing nakedly against the wall, his tan skinned in striking contrast to the pale plaster.

“Mmmm, yes,” Miles nodded, “Daddy approves.” He let his eyes take in the sight of Jason’s well-formed heaving chest, the ripping lines of his abs, and finally the semi-hard prong of his burgeoning manhood. He moved back in, standing less than arm’s length away from Jason. “Now, be a good boy and take out the cock of Miles.”

Jason licked his lips and reached out obediently to finally undo the buckle of Miles’ belt.

“I can’t fucking wait, Sir,” he announced, much to Miles’ gratification. He drew down the zipper and with excited hands reached into the confines of his General’s fly to free the pleasure missile hidden within. “Jesus Christ, Sir! It’s a fucking can of corn!”

Miles smiled complacently.

“Don’t worry, boy, I’ll give it to you nice and slow. At first. Then, I’m gonna fuck you raw so you won’t be able to sit down without feeling my phantom cock inside you for like... five years.”

Jason was salivating with eagerness. “How...” he finally managed to speak, “How do you want me?”

“As you were, soldier,” Miles replied, brushing his body up the warm, pliant flesh of his soon-to-be fuck-toy. “Just the way you are.” He ran his hands down Jason’s sides, finally taking each of his asscheeks into his own hands, pressing his throbbing bone up against Jason’s stomach. “Jump, doggy.” Jason lifted both his legs off the ground and Miles expertly buttressed him up against the wall. “Good boy. Now wrap.” Jason wrapped his thighs around Miles’ hips and emitted a soft groan of anticipation. “You want this beast inside you?” Miles teased, running his boner along the side of Jason’s own growing erection.

“Do I ever?” Jason nodded with excitement and licked his lips again. “Give me that shit already!”

“Such an impatient little whore, young Neville!” Miles grinned into the side of Jason’s neck, enjoying the feel of his warm skin against his lips. “Reach into my jacket pocket and get the bacon lube.” Jason hurried to do exactly as he was told, pulling the now no longer pristine bottle of lube out of the inner pocket of Miles’ jacket, which was logically still regally adorning the General. “All right, now squirt.” Miles lifted one of his hands off of the globes of Jason’s bootylicious ass. Jason quickly complied, coating Miles’ fingers with a copious amount of bacon-flavored goop. 

Miles pressed the kid more securely up against the wall and found his pretty ruby red starfruit with his lube-coated fingers, slowly fucking him open much to Jason’s very vocal outbursts of delight.

“Oh God, yes, I’m ready, just fuck me!”

“Excuse me, bitch? What do we say to our superiors?”

“Just fuck me, please, Sir!”

“You ravenous harlot,” Miles growled and bit down on Jason’s craning neck for emphasis, while three of his fingers stretched and stroked his hungry little man-pussy. “I’m gonna skewer you so hard, you’ll be nothing but Neville shishkabob.”

“Enough with the promises, already! Sir!”

Miles kissed him hard, to shut that pretty dirty mouth of his, and positioned his assault rifle at the entrance to Jason’s mancave of hidden delights. He thrust up, impaling the Private in one smooth stroke of magnificent cock. Jason moaned his approval into Miles’ mouth, and although he needed no encouragement, Miles appreciated this spirited assent, and he pulled Jason’s hips down, fucking him with verve and gusto.

“Holy fucking fuck!” Miles exclaimed. “You’re so hot and tight and whorish! I love it!”

“Ah, yeah! Give it to me, Daddy!” Jason cried out, his head hitting the wall with reckless abandon and youthful exuberance. Miles grit his teeth and pounded that ass with purpose, licking drops of sweat off of Jason’s neck as they formed there, drinking in all the little fucked-out noises he was making as Miles rode him like a broken steed. Miles adjusted his angle so that he knew he’d be pushing Jason’s fun button with his joystick with each thrust, causing the young man’s lustful cries to become even louder and more profane. Miles could feel the pressure building up in his nutsack. He was probably moments away from his cock erupting like a run-over twinkie, and he didn’t want to Jason to miss this moment of glory.

“Pay attention, Private!” He grabbed Jason by the chin, making eye contact with him. “I’m about to fill that ass up, so you’d better love every drop!”

“Oh, fuck yes!” Jason drew one of his hands to his own cock and began to jerk himself off with soldierly efficiency. Miles figured fair was fair, so he allowed this blatant self-gratification, while he delivered the last few punishing upward thrusts into Jason’s tight channel of desire before busting a huge nut, just as he promised. “Thank you, Sir!” Jason exclaimed as his own love-juice spilled over his hand and stomach.

Having repositioned himself and adjusted his clothes, Miles took a long look at the wrecked form of Jason Neville, who was sliding limblessly down the wall where Miles had left him.

“You’re such a good soldier, Jason, I think I’m going to have to give you something else to remember me by, in addition to all the spunk I just deposited inside you.” Miles was pensively caressing his chin as Jason gave him a loopy smile. 

Miles walked over to his drawers and rummaged around for a bit until he found the thing he had been looking for. It was a shame to part with such a fun toy, but the promise of retrieving it in the future was titillating all in itself. Miles plopped into the arm chair and motioned for Jason to approach. The kid could apparently barely move, but he crawled over on all fours, giving Miles that slatternly look the entire time that made his cock jump even though it had just been thoroughly used. Miles patted his own knee. “Lie across my lap, you little lap dog.” Jason lithely spread out across Miles’ thighs, as instructed.

Not to drag this scene out any more than was strictly necessary, Miles quickly applied some lube to the buttplug and easily slid it into Jason’s used hole. He punctuated this action with a firm slap on the delectable behind.

“Private, you’re dismissed!”


	4. Tom

Miles didn't bother with a shower this time, just tugged up his trousers, his own jizz still drying on his softening prick. He adjusted his uniform, ensuring his gig line was the straightest thing about him. After all, Miles thought with a lascivious lick of his lips, he was now entertaining an officer. 

The knock on his door was not that of a wet behind the ears pup, but of a man, eager to enjoy the fruit of his loins. He stood at parade rest, his hands clasped casually behind his back, his feet shoulder width apart. Even though the air was permeated with the sweet smell of his previous copulations, he was eager for the next course. Eager for the more mature vintage. 

"Enter."

Tom Neville strode into the room with a confidence that excited Miles' hungry animal. 

If it weren’t for the rather explicit manner in which Miles had learned about Tom’s penchant for cock, Miles would have sworn Tom was indifferent to the magnanimous bounty of his man rod. It was impressive, Miles conceded, to see the way Tom reigned in his undoubtedly intense feelings of longing and want. 

“Tom, it’s good to see you again.”

“General.”

He was always succinct, but Miles wanted his title to be screamed at a decibel more fitting his impressive prowess.

“You know of course, why you’ve been brought to my - den of iniquity?”

“I understand you are ensuring the loyalty of the men, Sir. I am most eager to assure you of my continued support.”

“Ah,” Miles breathed. “That’s good to hear, Tom. I’m ready to ensure your continued support of my cause.”

“Whatever you require, Sir. As always.”

“Very good. Strip.”

Tom’s eyes widened, and Miles smirked. He was tempted to tell Tom everything he knew, everything about how he knew Tom was simply salivating at the thought of tasting his leaky hose. It was more fun to watch him squirm, like a little worm on a _big_ hook. Miles laughed at his own pun and drew Tom’s eyes. Miles simply made some dismissive gesture, wanting Tom naked sooner rather than later. The schedule and all. He knew the Winchesters would take a fair piece of time. The thought of all the tender bits of meat, laid out before him like a high class course meal made Miles reach down and stroke his own filet mignon.

“Come here.”

Tom strode closer to Miles, his eyes losing some of the officer facade he usually adopted and he looked more like his son in that moment. Miles decided then that he’d make Jeremy schedule a more selective round for later, deciding he was due for a double course of dark meat. 

Miles reached out and roughly tweaked one of Tom’s nipples, watching the way he clenched his jaw to maintain that damned military bearing. Miles remembered teaching him to remain composed, controlled no matter what the circumstances. He smiled as he envisioned himself using his flesh arrow to poke holes in all of Tom’s - bearings. 

Set to his course, Miles used both hands to twist Tom’s nipples, watching the way Tom’s eyes continued to fight between composure and arousal. It was intoxicating to watch someone resist him. He knew the order had been intentional and he’d be sure to give Jeremy an appropriate thank you during their session. 

“I’m going to tear you in half with my hidden rocket launcher, you know.” Miles brought his lips to Tom’s ear, biting down hard. 

“Yes, Sir.”

“Always so proper, Tom. If I didn’t know better, I’d call you a virgin.” Miles pulled back, met Tom’s gaze and stroked his chin, enjoying the way Tom’s eyes followed his movements. 

Miles moved closer, rubbing his clothed body against Tom’s fully naked one. “Or does Julia do that? Does she peg you behind closed doors? Do you call her ‘Daddy’?”

He felt the way Tom trembled against him.

“I wonder,” Miles began as he circled his most recent conquest. “Has anyone else ever had your ass? Do I have the privilege of claiming another piece of Neville ass for myself?”

“Sir?”

“Can’t you smell it?” Miles asked with a dirty grin. Miles pushed Tom to his knees, forced Tom’s face to the Uncle Jim and twins at attention Miles was containing in his pants. 

“You can,” Miles purred as he heard Tom groan. “That’s my ejaculate you smell and I erupted in your son’s fine ass like I was in Pompeii on volcano day.”

Miles undid his pants enough to unleash the kraken for Tom to worship. He grasped Tom’s head and brought it to his dick. Tom’s eyes flicked up to him and Miles nodded. 

“I’m assuming you’re not waiting for a private invitation to the Trouser Department? Consider yourself reassigned, Captain.”

He saw the frustration flash across Tom’s face, but like a good soldier, he didn’t say anything to his Commanding Officer.

“If you prove yourself worthy, _Captain_ , I’ll allow you to retain the rank of Major.”

Tom nodded. “As you say, Sir.”

Miles nodded and pushed his newly re-commissioned army stick past Tom’s lips and began to steadily fuck his face. He could see his snake slither down Tom’s drain, watched his throat constrict around it. Miles clasped his hands behind his head and continued to thrust his hips forward, as though he was dancing a salsa, but with his dick. Dick salsa. He’d make it a thing for himself. A side dish to be enjoyed daily. 

Tom reached out, his hands grasping at the perfectly formed mounds of flesh Miles examined in the mirror daily. Groping showed enthusiasm, which was an important trait for a military officer, but not yet. Miles batted his hands away.

“Hold them behind your back, Tom, or I’ll cuff you. I might cuff you anyway.”

Tom whimpered, like a bitch in heat and Miles forcefully shoved his boner down Tom’s gillet. Miles pulled his aching member from between Tom’s moist lips with a wet plop noise. Tom’s eyes snapped up to Miles’ and he smiled seductively, licking his lips in anticipation. He reached down and pulled his belt off.

“Turn around.”

Tom complied eagerly, knowing he was soon to receive the dick of his commanding officer, the most impressive offering any officer could ever hope to receive. 

“Stay on your knees, with your hands behind your back and put that delicious Oreo ass up in the air so I can give it the good cream filling.”

Miles pulled the length of his belt through his hand, feeling the material against his palm. He slunk to his knees behind Tom’s delectable ass and ran his hands over the perfectly formed mounds before him. He trailed the edge of the belt along Tom’s crack, up his spine, watching the way Tom’s body shivered. Miles efficiently tied Tom’s hands together with the belt.

For a moment, Miles enjoyed the view. Tom, on his knees, ass in the air, just waiting for Miles to plow him like a new field. He grasped the base of his raging purple-headed warrior and slapped it against Tom’s ass, enjoying the sound of his man meat slapping against Tom’s drum mound. It was a sweet sounding music, and he continued to make a beat, ensuing to give both cheek equal attention, he was an equal opportunity employer, after all. 

“Gah,” Tom groaned. “Please, Sir.”

Miles smiled wickedly and pulled his dick back, watching Tom’s ass instinctively seek his dick. 

“I’m glad to see it runs in the family, Tom. Your son was just as eager to be filled by the most dangerous weapon in the Republic.”

Miles looked around for where the bottle of lube had been left, needing to be in Tom’s ass _now_. He found it and poured a generous amount of the meat-scented goop onto his hand. He slid some between Tom’s ass cheeks, watching the way it slid down past his balls. Miles knew in a few moments, he was on a _tight_ schedule, his own erotic love juices would be pouring out of Tom’s gaping hole. 

He pushed his finger in slowly, the overly generous amount of lube helping his journey to the promised land. Tom’s ass pushed back against his finger and MIles pushed in a second, feeling Tom fuck himself on Miles’ fingers. 

“That’s it, whore. Ride my fingers, show me your loyalty. Tell me how happy you are to have me back.”

Tom made attractive little noises in the back of his throat as he continued to impale himself on MIles’ fingers. Feeling his balls tighten, Miles pulled his fingers out and replaced them with his dick, allowing Tom to ride the magic flagpole. Miles snapped his hips forward in a punishing manner, attempting to get his dick so far into Tom’s ass it would come out his mouth. Tom encouraged him, pushing himself back on Miles’ dick like the little cock slut that he was. It _did_ run in the family. Miles thrust his howitzer in, feeling his tight balls slap against Tom’s ass. He roared as his commanding seed christened Tom’s hole, the excess sliding back out as Miles continued to thrust home. It looked better than he imagined it, like a melting oreo cookie. 

Miles pulled his slowly softening dick from Tom’s body before untying Tom’s hands. He pulled Tom to him and plundered his mouth, seeing the wondrous bounty of his cavernous mouth. He pulled back, both of them panting, the glazed, sedate look of being fully satisfied by Miles’ cock adorning Tom’s face. Miles smirked, another satisfied customer. 

“Congratulations, Major.”

Tom smiled as he put his clothing back on and made his way to the door. Miles caught him just before he reached it and devoured his mouth once more. Next time, he’d have both Neville’s in his room.

Miles took a deep breath as the door closed behind _Major_ Neville. He stripped off his clothing and sunk into the bath, the water wasn’t warm, but his hot body didn’t mind. He relaxed for a few minutes, mentally preparing himself to fuck Smith, Wesson, Colt and the smorgazboard of Wincehsters he’d have here in a few minutes. Jeremy wasn’t going to win this bet. His dick was insatiable.


	5. Jeremy

Miles was sunken into a pile of sweat-soaked pillows, his breath still heavy after the exertions he had just put his body through for the sake of the Winchester Orgy. He was quite proud of himself for that one, even if he said so himself. He had lined all five of them in a circle around himself on the bed, their plump and pluckable behinds facing in, and he had fucked them all like a fuckable carousel, not remembering which one of them was the lucky recipient of his load in the end. He needed a cigarette, but he was too lazy to look for any. In fact, he was sort of completely over the entire concept of moving, entirely.

He was about to shout for Jeremy, when, as if on queue, the door opened and his Captain sauntered in, hands crossed, a rather curious smirk gracing his handsome face.

“My oh my, General Matheson, you’ve really outdone yourself today. Or... you know... outdone _everyone_.” He strolled casually towards the bed and handed Miles a small towel. “For your pressing needs, Sir.”

“Jeremy,” Miles exhaled with some relief at not having to move. “I believe I’m still on schedule and you’re the only one left on my agenda for the day.”

“What about Bass?”

“That’s not on my agenda. That is just my way of life: it happens when it happens, naturally, and without a second thought.”

Jeremy nodded in friendly agreement and slowly removed his jacket. “You got fifteen minutes to spare.”

“I’m not losing this bet with you, Baker, just because you’ve suddenly decided to be a big cock-tease,” Miles frowned and tried to move. Cancel that, he decided, and glared instead. “Now, come on, it’s time for you to meet the Fuck Bringer.”

“Give yourself a break, Miles! You can’t even lift a finger.”

“Little bitch, I can still lift the only finger that matters, now take off your pants, and _jump on my cock_. That’s an order.”

Jeremy wiped the smile off his face and narrowed his eyes with lustful want from the feelings that Miles’ domineering growls sent cascading through his lower bits. He commenced to remove his pants.

“Miles, I’ve been watching guys limp out of here all day. Forgive me if I’m not in hurry to get afflicted with cock-related decrepitude.”

“It’s a badge of honor, Baker, and you shall wear it with pride.” Miles made a wide gesture encompassing the room, as if he was saying “Look upon all this, my Glory.”

The bed smelled like twelve different flavors of cock and balls, and, oddly enough, bacon. Jeremy finally allowed his slacks to drop to the floor rewarding Miles with the realization that he had been commando.

“I don’t suppose you’ve prepped yourself for me too?” Miles quirked an eyebrow upwards at his latest ass-morsel.

“What? And miss out on the pleasure of having you watch me while I do that?”

Orgy or not, Miles felt his shlong perk up with interest. He spread his thighs, making room for Jeremy climb onto the bed, cum-stained sheets and all be damned. Jeremy was like a luxurious wildcat, or some other feline thing with pointy incisors that killed you.

“Let’s get you ready to ride me, cowboy,” Miles lazily pushed the lube into Jeremy’s hand, making the Captain finally realize what was the source of the unmistakable bacon smell. 

Jeremy squirted some onto his fingers, making a big show by spreading his thighs and reaching past his balls to his winking pucker-hole below. Miles slowly licked his lips as he watched the other man slowly finger himself open, getting his hole nice and ready to receive his juicy bone. Jeremy was practically drooling for it as he popped his fingers out, breath coming in quick gasps and his eyes focused on Miles’ rapidly solidifying Mount Doom.

“Why don’t you use that talented mouth of yours to show me how much you respect me, Jeremy?” Miles motioned towards his prong with the barest motion of his head.

Jeremy had been trained in the ways of soldiery by Miles himself, after all, and he would never need to be told twice to get down and polish his Commanding Officer’s barrel. He opened wide and began to lick long, wet stripes along the entire, seemingly unending length of Miles’ meaty Excalibur. Miles purred with approval and caressed the back of Jeremy’s head, apparently regaining function in some of his limbs from his subordinate’s careful ministrations. Jeremy deep throated Miles as far as he could take him, which was saying a lot, since Jeremy was known for being able to deep throat just about anything, and swallowed around the engorged member with his finely controlled throat muscles, causing Miles to groan louder.

“That will do. I think we’re both ready enough.” Miles pulled Jeremy off by a handful of his hair. “Now get on it and ride it, my pretty, pretty pony.”

Miles felt himself slide as easily as was feasible into Jeremy’s lubed and stretched hole, feeling as if he’d been playing an endless game of dong golf and he had finally reached the final hole.

“Goddammit, I am fucking awesome!” he bellowed, as he thrust up into Jeremy, both hands gripping tightly onto the underside of his thighs. “Uh, yeah! Take it, you love it!”

Jeremy braced himself with both hands against Miles’ chest, his head bouncing so violently from Miles’ enthusiastic thrusts that for the briefest moment it occurred to Miles to slow the fuck down so that he wouldn’t break him. But then he dismissed that foolish thought, and continued to pound Jeremy’s ass mercilessly.

“Who’s your Daddy, bitch?” Miles groaned and slapped Jeremy’s ass for emphasis.

“You are, Daddy, fuck, Miles! This is really dirty!”

With a surge of renewed vigor, Miles managed to pull himself up enough to reach Jeremy’s shoulders, so that he could bring him all the way down against his sweaty balls. He did love the way they sounded when they slapped against some hot piece of ass. Jeremy moaned and slumped over, bringing his neck dangerously close to Miles’ face. The latter, not missing a cue, expediently latched his mouth to the crook of the exposed skin, leaving a rapidly purpling lovebite there.

“Mmmm, you magnificent slut,” Miles praised, “I’ve always so enjoyed fucking you until you’re nothing but a wrecked ball of weeping need.” Jeremy moaned helpless in reply and ground his hips down over Miles’ throbbing leviathan. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” was all Jeremy managed to utter as each thrust left him more and more incoherent and desperate to get off.

“Jeremy,” Miles breathed out, feeling his sack tighten in preparation for another crescendo of orgasms. “You should touch yourself... I.... I can’t...” he finally admitted, feeling his strength ebb as his pleasure mounted and threatened to crest.

Jeremy took over the procedure, gladly, palming his own leaking boner, while grinding his hips with wild abandon into Miles’ lap. He managed to get himself off in a few hard strokes, the feel of Miles’ fat fucker inside him propelling him into erupting all over his Commanding Officer’s abs and chest with one final, primal scream. The contractions of Jeremy’s tight asshole around his overused weapon of mass fuckery finally sent Miles over the edge and he emptied his load into Jeremy’s love channel with a satisfied grunt.

Jeremy slumped over Miles, allowing the General’s cock to slowly, very slowly, soften inside him. Miles wrapped his arms around him and ran his fingers through the Captain’s short, blond hair, his throat emitting something that was still dangerously close to a purr.

“That’s a good boy,” Miles said, lazily stroking Jeremy’s back. “Now, what do we say after we’ve been properly fucked?”

“Long live General Matheson and the Monroe Republic,” Jeremy muttered into Miles’ neck and gave his softening cock a friendly squeeze with his sphincter.

The clock suddenly chimed, momentarily bring both men out of their post-coital slump.

“Heh,” Miles grinned, “I win the bet. You know what that means, right?”

“I owe you more sex?” Jeremy asked, hopefully.

“You bet,” Miles responded and gave Jeremy’s ass a reassuring grope.


	6. Bass

“I understand you’ve caused some of my better men to walk with a limp.”

Miles smiled and licked his lips. “With any luck, and I’m one lucky man, I’ll be having the President himself walking with a limp, and quite possibly at an angle.” Miles paused and looked at Bass as though he were a perfectly prepared porterhouse steak. “But, if I’m really as lucky as I feel, you won’t be able to walk at all.”

Bass smiled cheekily. “Promises, promises, General Matheson.”

“But you know, Bass, I don’t ever make empty promises,” Miles stretched his lean muscles demonstratively, and adjusted his package. “Or empty threats,” he added in a low growl.

Miles moved closer to Bass, his bare feet padding softly against the wood floors. He ran a finger down his naked, glistening torso, making a mental note to get more honey to the capital, wanting Bass to lick it from his body. He watched Bass’ eyes follow his finger, knew how much Bass desperately longed for his cock, knew he’d been panting for it from the first mention of his epic, record breaking porn-a-thon. Maybe he should make it an annual fiesta. Get Jeremy to place more bets on it. Miles shook his head, a wicked grin on his face.

“I shouldn’t be the only one who is naked, Bass.” 

Bass swallowed and adjusted the tight collar of his military coat.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to unwrap your present yourself?”

Miles licked his lips again. “There will be plenty of time for that. Now, I mostly just want you naked. I’m predominantly just interested in your tradesman’s entrance.”

Bass blushed like a virgin which only made Miles smile more wolfishly because he knew Bass wasn’t a virgin. Miles had plucked _all_ of Bass’ cherries. He had a Bass cherry collection and soon he was going to reclaim Bass’ cherry ass. It was his favorite forbidden fruit in the Garden of Earthly Delights that was the Monroe Republic.

“Strip that shit off!” he barked out, his own hand palming at the ever-growing man cheddar before Bass’ hungry gaze.

“I can’t believe you didn’t even bother with a towel or something, Miles.”

Miles winked. “Towels are inefficient.”

“I didn’t know I was a part of Jeremy’s _tight_ schedule.”

Miles continued to varnish his barrel. “You’re not, but with you, President Monroe, naked is definitely preferable.” He frowned a bit. “So... Why the fuck are you still wearing clothes?”

Bass smirked, and slowly began to undo the buttons of his coat, simultaneously kicking off his boots with practiced efficiency.

“Fine, you can have your dessert, Miles. But first, I think I’m going to have to give you a proper tongue bath to wash the smell of all your other bitches off you before I let you put your giant jack-hammer where the sun don’t shine.”

“Oh Bass,” Miles purred as he stroked his impatient little one-eyed beast, “never underestimate the radiance of your ass. But, if you don’t hurry the fuck up, I’m going to fuck you with the smell of all my more eager, willing bitches all over me.”

Bass had moved on to pulling his undershirt over his head, resulting in his hair attaining that fuckable bed-head look.

“Now you’re just _trying_ to make me angry,” Bass stated, pulling off his socks and balling them up before tossing them straight at Miles. He had excellent aim.

Miles snatched them just before they hit his nose and he brought them to his face, sniffing them as though they were the most exquisite bouquet in the known universe. He allowed his eyes to flutter shut for emphasis before rolling the socks across his nipples. Since it seemed as though he might be resigned to yank his own yodel, he wrapped Bass’ sock around his little stiffy and began to fist himself in earnest. 

“Man... that’s like my last pair of clean socks,” Bass sighed.

“Then you’d better hurry up before I dirty them with my God-given ambrosia.”

Resigned, Bass began to unbuckle his belt, watching Miles as the latter allowed his gaze to caress of all of Bass’ ridiculous eighteen-pack (for a six-pack was for mere mortals). Miles would have to make that honey shipment a priority as he found himself desperately desiring to lick all the honey out of Bass’ honeycomb. At long last, Bass finally slipped out of his slacks, letting them fall into a vanquished puddle around his ankles, and stepped out of them, gracing Miles with all his Adonis-like nakedness which was truly next to Godliness.

“I’m.... gah.... _want_ ,” Miles whispered, feeling his throat constrict and dry out with sheer lust. He took a step forward, brushing the back of his hand against Bass’ glorious pectorals, gently scraping against his tiny, pert nipples. “Hnnnng,” he added, his mind obviously giving up on the world. Bass shivered and took a small step closer, his heated breath brushing against Miles’ neck.

“Yes, General Matheson? Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

Miles grabbed Bass by the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him into a searching kiss, his tongue exploring every nook and cranny of the President’s mouth, including his pointy little vampire teeth. Bass moaned like the pretty little whore that he looked like, leaning into Miles, coming flush against his body, cock-to-cock, like the comrades in dicks that they’ve always been. Miles’ hands instinctively flew to cup both of the globes of Bass’ perfect bubble-butt and squeezed them with possessive ferocity.

“Mmmmmm..,” he moaned into Monroe’s mouth. “Mine.... yes....”

Bass pulled away and pushed Miles backwards, causing the General to land splayed across the abused bed, which had been a witness to more money shots in that one day than a porno set in a month.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Miles. You’re still getting the tongue bath.”

Miles spread his legs and arms, looking like a debauched Da Vinci man and met Bass’ eyes. “My body is ready.”

Bass quickly straddled the other man’s hips, playfully letting his face hover just out of reach of Miles’ lips.

“Try not to jizz all over me prematurely,” Bass mentioned casually.

Miles swatted Bass’ ass. “I’ll do my best.”

Bass leaned forward and Miles tried to bow his back enough to push his chest against Bass, wanting to force enough friction to break down Bass’ reserve so he could thrust his battering ram into Bass’ desperate cat flap. 

Bass held his chest down with his palms, fingers firmly pressed into the mounds of Miles’ heated flesh.

“I think I’ll start with the neck,” Bass announced, and craned into the exposed groove underneath Miles’ chin, his tongue darting out in a series of short, quick licks, followed by a long, wet stripe, lingering over his lover’s Adam’s apple.

“Fuuuuuck,” Miles emitted, mentally thanking himself for the fuck-a-thon he had just orchestrated in the hope that this would allow him to survive the slow burn of Bass’ actions.

The tongue dipped into the hollow of his neck and traced over his clavicles. Miles felt his anaconda sliding wetly against Bass’ own viper.

Bass sat up, eyes confused. He blinked down at Miles. “Do I smell...bacon?”

Miles laughed and used Bass’ distraction to roll their position. He ground his writhing serpent against Bass’ hip. His lips brushed against Bass’ ear. “It’s the lube, baby. All the meaty smells for my man. An olfactory bouquet.” 

“Mmmm, you know exactly what I like. Having you smelling like the fucking pig that you are.”

Miles growled again and bit the exposed ligaments of Bass’ neck right where they sloped to meet his shoulder, marking him with a complacent grin.

“You’re done with the tongue bath. My turn now.”

“But I was just...” Bass tried to protest but Miles clamped his hand over his mouth.

“You’re done when I say you’re done,” Miles said, punctuating his statement with a sharp slap on Bass’ hot little ass. He slid his body lower, first finding a nipple with his mouth and pulling on it gently with his teeth, causing Bass’ cock to twitch happily underneath him, then licking down the groves of all of his lover’s innumerable ab muscles until he reached the heady scent of sex and roses emanating from the tight curls over Monroe’s engorged bone. “Spread it for Daddy,” Miles ordered, reinforcing his words with actions, as his hands prodded along the inside of Bass’ thighs, making them move apart for him.

Bass obeyed, giving Miles access to his secret garden. He sucked on each of Monroe’s balls like they were mellon-flavored lollypops and proceeded to run his tongue down his lover’s perineum. Bass twitched and quivered.

“What the _what_?” he squealed.

“Oh baby, you know I’ve been fucking ass all day long, but there are some things that I reserve only for my priceless little bitch.” He smirked again and pushed Bass’ legs higher over his head, giving himself access to more fully admire the pretty little rosebud of Monroe’s tight asshole. “There you are, precious,” he greeted the tantalizing bundle of muscles. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Stop talking to my asshole, Miles, it’s kinda creepy.” 

“I’m having a dialogue with your anus, Bass. It’s _important_.”

“Dialogue involves responses, Miles. My ass isn’t going to talk back.”

Miles smirked. “Oh, Bass, baby, it’s going to fucking sing my praises. I’m going to gift your sweet little puckered garden with the fertilized seed of my loins and your ass will rejoice. It will be glorious.”

“I think too much cock has gone to your head.”

“Firstly, not punny. Secondly, no such thing as too much cock.”

“Would you get on already, with your anus chats, in that case?”

Always needing to have the final word, Miles put his tongue to its intended use, circling the twitching hole with a wet lap, and then pushing it roughly past the constricting walls of Bass’ hidden entryway. Miles set a pattern, thrusting his tongue in a series of short and long thrusts. The short thrusts simply a tease against the outer rim before fully breaching the sinkhole on the long thrusts.

“Miles,” Bass’ voice was aroused and amused. “Did you just spell out ‘anus’ with your tongue?”

Miles grinned and continued to Morse Code the fuck out of Bass’ _other_ mouth. 

Bass began to slowly but steadily thrust his hips against the assault of Miles’ communicative tongue, trying to put an end to the little lovers’ tryst his body part was apparently having with Miles against his better judgment, needing to get fucked properly. Bass began to emit soft whimpers, which were becoming more erratic as they increased in volume.

“Miles... Miles... I swear to fucking God, if you don’t fuck me _right now_ I’m never going to have sex with you again!”

Miles withdrew his tongue from the loosening and moistening orifice only to pronounce Bass a “Fucking liar.” Having said that, his own patience wasn’t endless, and his leaky eel was leaving an insistent trail of precum all over the sheets again. He knew how much Bass _hated_ getting sex all over the sheets. They sometimes stained and almost always invited questions. Miles smiled though. He’d make Jeremy wash the sheets...or Tom’s boy. The thought made him shiver. 

“All right, you impatient cock-slut.” Miles straightened his back and extended his arm towards Bass. “Get over here in my lap already, so I can beat that man-pussy up like it’s my birthday and your ass is the pinata full of candy cum.” He leaned back against the headboard, pulling Bass into his lap, with his back pressed against Miles’ sweat-soaked chest, so that Miles could enjoy peppering the back of Bass’ delicious neck with rough bites.

“Really? You wanna do this reverse-cowgirl?” Bass gasped.

“Don’t be sexist: it’s reverse cowboy when you do it, baby,” Miles reassured him.

Bass glared at him over his shoulder.

Miles smiled. “Unless, of course, you’re going to play dress up for me?”

Bass rolled his eyes. “You’re one finicky little bitch, you know that? First it’s all, ‘Bass get your damn clothes off’ then it’s all ‘Bass go raid Jeremy’s closet for the drag clothes’.”

Miles decided to shut him up by slipping two bacon-lubed greased fingers into his wet and wanting hole. Bass gasped and rocked back against the welcome intrusion.

“Maybe later,” Miles grunted, quickly coating his cock with the remains of the lube. He was glad he had a steady supply of this - his favorite flavor. “Open Sesame!” He positioned his massive love-rod at Bass’ entrance and pulled his lover down the pulsing gadoon until he was finally balls deep in his favorite place. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he moaned, “Now this is a homecoming worthy of the Commanding Officer of the Monroe Republic.”

“Always reserve the best for you, General.”

Miles slapped Bass’ beautiful ass, running his palms over it with admiration.

“Go on, ride my joy stick, boy. Show me how you love it.” He thrust up, giving Bass the encouragement he did not in actuality need.

Bass began to rock back against Miles, loving every fat inch of the monstrous meat-pole as it slid against the walls of his quivering cave of wonders. Miles, obligingly, wrapped his fingers around Bass’ own one-eyed yogurt choker, toying with his slit, as he forced a cacophony of ecstatic fuck-noises out of him, hearing his voice going more and more hoarse with each powerful thrust.

“You’re so hot when you squirm on my purple people pleaser like a two-dollar whore,” Miles praised him, speeding up pace with which he was bludgeoning Bass’ beefsteak. “Tell me you love it!” he ordered, intent on fucking Bass out of his ability to speak.

“Uh... yeah...” Bass was becoming increasingly aware of the hoarseness of his own voice as his balls were beginning to tighten. “Fuck, you’re so huge!”

“Say you love it, whore.”

“I love it!”

“Louder or I’ll stop.”

“Fuck... I love it! Don’t stop... asshole.”

Miles thrust harder and gave Bass’ nutsack and angry pull.

“Louder!”

“I LOVE IT!”

“I don’t think they could hear you out in the field,” Miles grunted and squeezed again. “Give your General a _verbal_ greeting.” 

“FUCK, MILES, YES, FUCK ME!”

Miles felt the satisfaction radiating through all of his appendages, but especially to the one safely housed inside his President. He was getting ready for his final salute. Letting go of Bass’ flesh marbles, he redirected his hand to his lover’s weeping bone, giving it a few hard pulls.

“That’s it. Come for Daddy,” he whispered, latching his teeth to the nape of Bass’ neck and getting ready to make his deposit into the bank of his delights. Miles felt his twin walnuts tighten to the point he feared they would fall off and prepared to shoot the libation of his affection deep inside Bass’ manhole just as he felt the warm stickiness of Bass’ own love-honey spill all over his hand just as he unleashed the last of his fireworks.

Bass emitted a helpless and almost soundless groan as he fell back against Miles’ chest, thoroughly fucked and sore in all the right places. Miles hummed his approval against his lover’s flushed skin, his hand making sure to milk every last drop of that sweet nectar from his dripping hose.

Bass turned his face towards Miles and found him with his eyes at half mast, a satisfied smile of post-coital bliss gracing his face. “Fuck you,” Bass whispered, barely audibly.

“Did baby lose his voice?” Miles mumbled, running his hands absentmindedly up and down Monroe’s chest. Bass nodded and frowned. “Good boy,” Miles said and gave Bass another possessive kiss.

“Welcome back, Miles,” Bass whispered.

Miles leaned back, his hands still wrapped around his President, and decided that this was possibly the best idea he had ever had. They would have to make this an official annual State Holiday. Like Independence Day, but better. Miles Day. The Day that Miles Fucks the World.

**~FIN~**


End file.
